


The Herald of Coming Home

by Exposedma



Series: The Herald of... [7]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 19:50:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3394202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exposedma/pseuds/Exposedma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first kiss between Cullen and Isabel had been easy, but while distance can make the heart grow fonder, it also leaves time to over think and second guess.  The second kiss proves to be more difficult.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Herald of Coming Home

Cullen kissed her on the battlements, hard and hasty, capturing her before she could make her escape with an excuse. Then slow and soft, after he was sure she wouldn’t run, once he was sure she felt the same, really felt the same in a way he could confirm without words. That was three weeks ago, the following day she had left for the Western Approach, and he waited, drowning himself in work and training, catching himself every time he would scrape his teeth along his lower lip, trying to recall what she tasted like, and how she felt there. He could hardly believe she had admitted to her feeling to him, he reciprocated them, he was fairly certain his interest had begun long before hers. He wasn’t a fool he had sensed each small touch and soft look but kept his distance. Every time she looked at him with care or smiled her quiet smile at him he would thrill before remembering being called by her dead husbands name in the snow at Haven. He wanted to be sure her past was truly behind her, and she was willing to give him as much as he was willing to give her. He wasn’t expecting anything before they reached the inquisitions goals of restoring a semblance of order to Thedas. He had resigned himself to being a friend and giving her space in the meantime, focusing instead on the war effort. Cullen remembered the way she twisted and wrung her fingers while she spoke, her voice as stilted and unsure as he felt. His teeth scraped against his bottom lip and he sighed pressing his mouth into a stern line, mentally reprimanding her for being so distracting. 

They made the ride home three days earlier thanks to riding through the night, and sleeping in short three hour breaks on the road, it wasn’t smart, and her companions were growing irritable due to their lost sleep. The anticipation of seeing Cullen again was physically manifesting to the point of Varric commenting on how restless she was. The three weeks had given her time to dissect everything about her and Cullens interactions, think about how terrible the idea of the two of them getting involved was, but the words were out, there was no taking back that kiss, she worried her lower lip unsure if this involvement what she really wanted. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been this excited to see someone, and the sensation was unnerving. Suddenly she had something personal to lose. She tried burying the gut wrenching fear that elicited in her and dug her heels into her horse urging him on faster, promising a fine Antivan Vintage to each of her grumpy friends.

Cullen heard the horn from his office announcing approaching riders but thought nothing of it, thinking it was nothing more then returning scouts. He refocused his attention to the report he was reading, scrawling notes with his thoughts as he went. The door opened, a common occurrence in his tower usually guards passing by or runners with more reports, he didn’t raise his head unless addressed. He mumbled under his breath about the blasted Orleasians and scribbled a short and angry note at the bottom of the missive. 

“Cullen?” Isabel watched him write for a few second before speaking, face scowling and irritated. She watched his face look up and melt from stern to surprised then delight. 

“Isabel! You’re early.” He came around his desk, quill and report forgotten. 

She was still in her armor, shield still slung over her back, sword at her side. He could see a thin film of red dust on her clothing and face, see where the sweat at her hair line smudged the red sand, tracking lines down her face. Cullen’s heart beat hard when he realized she had come straight to him instead of cleaning and changing first. Was she as eager as he was, unless something had happened and he was needed, the shy smile and her overall stance, the way she tugged at her fingers put that thought to rest.

“I wanted…to , um, see you.” The words sounded silly, almost childish in her ears, and she ran a gloved hand through her dirty hair. She should have probably washed first; she should go and clean herself up. She felt like an over eager teenager again, and felt the colour rise in her cheeks.

“I’m glad.” He stepped towards her, chuckling. 

“I, uh, should have probably undressed first…changed, washed. Maker’s balls.” She squeezed her eyes shut, nerves making a fool of her. The sound of Cullen's suppressed laugh brightened her blush but teased out a smile of her own. “I may owe Dorian, Varric and Bull copious amounts of alcohol for pushing them so hard to get home.” She bit her lip glancing up at him guiltily. 

“Eager to return were you? Any particular reason why?” He gave her a roguish grin, raising an eyebrow and taking slow steps towards her. He wanted to take her in his arms sweep her up and kiss her, but her shyness was endearing.  
He was playing with her now, and she crossed her arms matching his look with her own raised eyebrow, familiar comfort curling around her with their banter. She worried for nothing she reasoned.

“Why? Because three weeks is entirely too long between a first and a second kiss, Commander Cullen, now stop teasing me.” She closed the distance between them, more nervous than shy, watching him through her lashes. 

“Well we needn’t wait any longer.” He found her waist and dipped his head towards her, sliding his nose against hers. 

Another one of the doors to Cullen’s tower opened, “Commander it seems the Inquisitor has returned early, once she’s cleaned up and changed we’ll be debriefing in the council chamber.” Lelianna strolled in, waiting expectantly. Cullen watched Isabel’s expression change in front of his eyes. What little playfulness she had shown him, the shy excitement at seeing him evaporated in a moment. She stepped out of his embrace and cleared her throat.

“Of course Leliana, we’ll see you in an hour.” She stepped away from Cullen, away from the shield his bulk had created obscuring her from the spymasters eyes.

“Inquisitor, I didn’t know you were here.” She glanced from Commander to Inquisitor, “did I interrupt something?” Implying exactly what they were thinking. 

“No, nothing. I’ll see you both in an hour.” Isabel spared a glance at Cullen, looking away far too quickly, the disappointed look he was giving her as she walked away was too much to face. It felt like running, it was, her nerves and her doubts crashing into her so suddenly, this was a distraction neither of them could afford, she shouldn’t have come here. 

“Are the two of you? What’s going on?” Lelianna was perceptive, not missing the tension in the room, the way Cullen looked after her. 

“I couldn’t tell you, Leliana.” He ran a gloved hand through his hair before letting it rest at the back of his neck. 

The debriefing was short, Isabel too tired to review anything more than the possession and murder of the Grey Wardens, and the acquisition of their new strong hold in the Western approach. She avoided Cullen’s eyes, but she could feel them on her, his voice was the commander’s not the teasing low chuckle she had heard earlier. She regreted leaving him without the kiss she said she wanted, that she still wanted. She was well aware she was sending him mixed signals. Logic and sense warred with desire; it was foolish for the two of them to get involved. He had the right of it three weeks ago when he had said she was the Inquisitor and that they were at war that he didn’t think it possible, if she was a better woman, stronger, it wouldn’t be, but something about him made her weak, and yet not. The effect he had on her was maddening. She didn’t know how to tell him how scared she was, how attached she had become and how every kiss, imagined or otherwise was pulling her towards him. The heavy war room door was pulled open, groaning on its hinges, Isabel was still bent over the war table lost in thought, not hearing or acknowledging her advisers words bringing the meeting to an end, it was only when she realized the buzz of voices had silenced that she glanced up. She saw the door leading to Josephine’s office close behind a wisp of maroon. Shit. She ran, doors slamming behind her until she reached him, grabbing his arm, and turning him towards her. Cullen’s face was weary and impatient, he didn’t have time for her games, for her hot and cold and misgivings. They needed to talk, he deserved an explanation at the very least. 

“Cullen.” It was then she realized they were in the main hall, becoming aware of the workers on the scaffolding and the milling nobles, and the words died on her tongue, too embarrassed to continue, not while on display for anyone to hear. She kept her grip on his arm, and nudged her head towards her chambers door, with a pleading look in her eye. “Commander, I have some thoughts on who could command at the new keep, I was hoping you would listen and give me your opinion?” 

“Of course Inquisitor.” He tilted his head indicating she should lead the way and he followed her through her door. 

They climbed the steps leading to her room, Isabel was already easing the buckles of her chest plate loose, shrugging off her over coat, and pulling off her gauntlets. Each crash of armor pierced the silence between them until she rounded on him in her leather breeches and cotton undershirt. Cullen could see the tan line cutting across her collar bone, the thin chain she wore around her neck with the wedding band resting against her skin beneath her shirt. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air until she sighed heavily and sat on the divan. 

“I’m not good at this. I’m sorry, for earlier, I panicked and I ran and I offended you, and...I’m sorry. I…don’t know what I’m supposed to do, I don’t know if this was a good idea.” She watched him, Cullen considered her before he started unlacing and removing his own gloves. 

“Well I can tell you, running away like I had the blight goes on the list of what not to do.” His voice was low and warm, wry. He cleared his throat looking about the room, painfully aware of the tension between them. 

“I gathered as much.” She mumbled softly.

Cullen knelt in front of her, regarding her seriously. They were alike in that they both tended to over think situations, consider all angles, doubts and second guessing was par for the course. Cullen was, however, sure in his feeling for the Inquisitor, which was surprising, he rarely let his emotions lead him. 

“If you like, whatever this is needn’t go further than this. It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted anyone in my life, and I’m as unsure as you are. It makes sense not to let our focus waiver. If this…dalliance has you doubting, then perhaps…”Cullen didn’t like the words he was saying. He watched the play of emotion on her face. 

“Cullen, I…if you don’t want…” Isabel felt her heart drop. She shouldn’t be sad, this is exactly what she wanted, a way out and a way back into her comfort zone.

“That’s not what I said.” His voice perhaps a little too sharp, Cullen sighed tracing his thumb over the tops of her cheeks where the desert sun had kissed them, it made her pale eyes all the brighter and Maker she was so beautiful, before he pulled away, he didn’t have the right. “I do want…I care for you, Isabel, and I want to try, I want to see where this could lead. What I am saying is that if you’re not ready then we don’t need to pursue this any further. ” He was giving her a way out if she chose to take it. She could run. The resignation and sadness on his face, the way his golden eyes swept over her, pulling his hand away from her face and looked away clearing his throat, she did that, she hurt him and she wanted to take it back. She didn’t deserve him, but she didn’t want to be the one who hurt him like this with her stupid indecision, he wanted her, she wanted him, she needed to stop making it more complicated than it was. She was struck that he cared enough to let her go, he wouldn’t push if it wasn’t what she wanted. Her heart ached, and she wasn’t sure if it was weakness of strength that made her relent.

Glancing from eyes to lips, her heart hammering in her head, she cupped his face in one hand and he leaned into it, his face expectant, waiting for her decision. She bent towards him, letting her nose run along his until she had angled her lips just above his, she felt his short stuttered breath right before she kissed him. Fingers ran through his soft pauldrons before finding the nap of his neck scraping up the back of his head. He leaned in, bracing himself with one arm on the divan, circling her waist with the other, pulling her closer. When her tongue slid against his a quiet moan bubbled up from Cullen's throat. His hand traveled up her waist causing the fabric from her shirt to scrap against her skin, making the hairs stand up. She raked her hands through his hair, their kiss growing in passion warmth pooling in her stomach she went to close her legs only for them to be stopped by his waist, her chest hard against his breast plate, she could feel the metal through her shirt, all too aware of how cool it felt against her breasts and Isabel couldn’t remember why she had been so frightened. She let out a whispered keen when his teeth scrapped against her bottom lip before he kissed her again. When they finally broke apart they were breathless. Cullen's hand traveling from ribs to waist and back up again, and Maker she wanted him to touch elsewhere, she nipped at his lip, smiling against him when he sighed. 

“I think that I would like to try as well.” She said low, voice soft and serious. “No turning back this time, I promise.”

“Good” He chuckled, lightly bumping his nose against hers, breathing her in. 

She hugged him, laying her head against the soft mantel, and wrapped up in his arms she finally felt like she had come home.


End file.
